


A Solo Confrontation

by FunFics



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Final Battle, Gen, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunFics/pseuds/FunFics
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	A Solo Confrontation

"Find what you were looking for?"

"I wish; came to this dump for nothin'." grumbles Han, fingers tracing across his bearded chin, "Ever been to Kessel, kid?"

"Can't say I have."

"Lemme tell ya, it makes Tatooine look like a resort." the Correlian complains through his comlink, to Luke's amusement. Avoiding acidic puddles and noxious fumes scattered about the wasteland seemingly at random, Han breathes a sigh of satisfaction as he exits the mine, only to splutter immediately. He clears his throat as the planet's sun shines down dull rays, mostly absorbed by the bleak canvas of clouds above him.

"So, I shouldn't set up a Jedi temple there, is what you're saying?" Luke questions jokingly.

"Ha! Not unless you want 'em to hate you."

"Duly noted, Han. I'll let Leia know you're on the way back."

"Ahh kriff... Don't say where I was - though smelling like this, she'll probably know anyway... She's gonna kill me, isn't she?"

"Not if I do first," a filtered voice rasps, only feet away from the smuggler-turned war hero. Han winces as his call with Luke abruptly cuts off, disabled. White noise buzzes through his ear-piece as his hand clasps instinctively at his holster. Clinking grows louder as an armored figure saunters through a thick veil of fog; through his visor, he stares with an unmatched intensity, sheer hatred radiating from his very presence.

"... Boba!?"

"Solo," Fett retorts, his rifle resting intently within his grasp, cradling the rusted weapon. "been a long time."

"How in... How in the hell did you get outta the pit?"

"You kept me motivated, smuggler. Not a grueling, torturous day went by where hunting you down wasn't on my mind. It was the epitome of hell - and I'd be remiss to not subject you to a similar fate..."

"Well if your plan's to talk me to death, it's working bucket-head."

"Banter. Quips. I'd hoped you would've changed in years gone by... You've grown predictable. You're just how I remember you; a nuisance."

"I'd say the same pal, but last I remember you, you were screaming for your life as you fell into a monster's stomach. I'm guessing you're not gonna settle for an apology, huh?" Han's response is met with a momentary silence. Breaking the pause was not a word, but the hissing of Boba's helmet as he detaches it from his head, letting the battered equipment fall to the floor. For the first time in their decades-long rivalry, Solo sees Boba face-to-face.

Glaring at the Rebellion General was a man of pain. Deep, dramatic scarring adorned his face almost completely, helmet failing to properly protect him from the Sarlaac's digestive juices. Only a few years older than Han, few would guess it with his wounds. And this was only his face - it fills the rebel with unease as he briefly contemplates his rival's mental state.

"Our little rivalry was just business, once. You were a mere distraction at best. But the day you sent me careening into that living prison? That, Solo, was the day you signed your death warrant."

"It was an accident, Fett," Han refutes with a small semblance of sympathy.

"That changes nothing."

"So we're back to square one? You'll just stalk me around the galaxy endlessly until one of us croaks? Save yourself the trouble. Walk away." Han warns coldly, fingertips hovering attentively over his blaster.

"I will, Solo. You won't. This ends today," Fett sneers, his collected demeanor slipping as his hands tighten around his EE3. "No Wookiee to save you this time - just you and me."

"Oh don't worry - anything happens to me, Chewie will be on your tail until your dying days. Count on it."

"I'll be sure to give him my regards, Solo... And then? I'll reunite you both. You have my guarantee," Boba hisses through gritted teeth as his trigger finger caresses the spring-loaded mechanism. A gentle breeze offsets the sweltering heat as both remain unmoving, utterly still in their stand-off. A tunic hanging around Boba's waist flutters weakly; Han's vest clings loosely around his lanky frame. Neither speak. Neither breathe. Neither even blink... Both with intricate timing and precision race to raise their firearms, taking aim and pulling their respective triggers in unison...


End file.
